


Respite

by Choke-a-Bro (Vanya_Deyja)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: M/M, Please remember to coddle your ancient terrors, Vignette, blow job reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-04
Updated: 2020-02-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:41:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22555759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanya_Deyja/pseuds/Choke-a-Bro
Summary: Ardyn is not ashamed to admit he prefers being the little spoon. The war effort is a pain in his ass.
Relationships: Verstael Besithia/Ardyn Izunia
Kudos: 42





	Respite

Being Chancellor has afforded Ardyn reasonably comfortable quarters for this operation but bedding only gets so comfortable on a crowded airship. His feet are hanging off the end of the mattress, bare and kind of cold, but he refuses to move. He’d fit, sort of, if he took up a position as big spoon in this arrangement but he doesn’t want that. He wants _this_.

Accordo’s a shit hole. They fight cheap and dirty and there’s nowhere to land the airships. Ardyn wanted to conquer them over the course of a month, decisive and firm, but they keep retreating to obscure hidey holes across scattered islands. It’s less warfare and more hide and seek. Fucking cowards.

Verstael came with the reinforcements. He’s taken Ardyn’s frantic, crude, text messages and developed some new weaponry to counter the conditions more effectively. How he’s mashed it together so quickly Ardyn will never know but Verstael’s got his own sort of magic even if he denies it. He didn’t have to come with the new batch of MTs but if conditions shift any more towards the unexpected it’ll be good to have him on site.

That and with the fighting dragging on Ardyn hasn’t seen him in almost six weeks which is frankly _unacceptable_.

Verstael smells just right. Not like salt water and gunpowder like everything else on the ship. All hospital chemicals and clean linen smell. It’s a funny smell but Ardyn’s come to associate it with good things.

Ardyn’s head rests on his clavicle, arm tucked around his trim waist, and Verstael’s arms stay wrapped around his shoulders. Verstael’s bony knees are curled up a little, bumping his hip, and when the blonde was still awake he spent a good twenty minutes carding his fingers through Ardyn’s hair and massaging his nails into his scalp. It was heavenly but just being held, even if Verstael is fast asleep, is remedial.

Ardyn’s convinced Verstael snuck his way into existence. Obviously the blonde cheated his way into the world or there was some kind of mix up in the Astral because no god would make Verstael on purpose. Not with Ardyn around. The Astrals need Ardyn out of chains to enact the prophecy but they don’t need him _happy_. Happiness is counter productive to world destroying but Verstael? Verstael makes Ardyn happy.

He’d call it ‘ _fondness_ ’ and creep around the issue but the battle is long lost on that front. He knew he was in love with Verstael when the blonde made him feel like a cheap, objectified, slut for getting his own dick sucked. Verstael Besithia; the only man alive who can suck Ardyn’s cock and make _Ardyn_ feel submissive about it. What a great and terrible power. Truly it must be respected.

Verstael’s very different to Aera but Ardyn’s at a different place in his life. Honestly it would be too painful if Verstael was anything like the Oracle. Ardyn would probably avoid him were that the case. No, clever little minx weaselled his way into Ardyn's heart on his own diabolical merits. 

Ardyn noses into his chest, squeezing him close, and Verstael mumbles in his sleep, hand flexing in Ardyn’s hair…

Fuck, this is just what the doctor ordered.

Ardyn is decidedly pissed therefore when his cellphone starts ringing.

He squints at the screen in the low light.

“What?” He groans into the cell.

“Chancellor you’re needed on the bridge.” Caligo explains.

Fucking Caligo.

“I’m scheduled off for another—” Ardyn squints— “four hours, General.”

“Emergency.” Caligo answers simply.

Now Ardyn doesn’t need to sleep, technically, but he certainly needs his debriefing time lest he slaughter the whole crew. Verstael shifts a little under him, pawing his face with a sleepy grumble.

“Is Besithia with you?” Caligo asks.

Ardyn doesn’t answer that, glancing up at Verstael’s scrunching face, it should be obvious.

“He’ll likely want to see this too, Chancellor.”

“Alright, alright,” Ardyn sighs. “I’ll join you shortly.”

Ardyn hangs up and buries his face in Verstael’s chest. Verstael pets his hair with another stretching yawn.

“We should go,” he supposes groggily, extending his legs so his toes curl over Ardyn’s.

“If Caligo were to fall, unexpectedly, off the ship—?”

“We’d have to run _everything_.” Verstael pets him. “Not just _mostly_ everything.”

“Buggeration.” Ardyn sighs, shifting up onto his elbows. “I can buy you half an hour if you want to wake up?”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” Verstael snorts softly. “I want to see what Caligo defines as an ‘ _emergency_ ’.”

“There’s probably pigeons nesting in the mech storage.”

Verstael snorts a little louder.

Ardyn surges up a little, shuffling up the mattress, butting their noses together.

“It’s good to have you here,” he rues, nuzzling. 

“I missed you too,” Verstael promises, squeezing him close. “Shall we?”

“I suppose,” Ardyn grumbles.

Just got to keep putting one foot in front of the other, Ardyn tells himself. He'll manage. 


End file.
